


Day 3: Masturbation

by Venusdoom3



Series: 30 Day Stucky Porn Challenge [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fantasizing, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Pining Bucky Barnes, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8334466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venusdoom3/pseuds/Venusdoom3
Summary: With a low groan, his hand moving faster along his length, Bucky pictured himself kissing his way down Steve's slender neck, tasting the fragile skin covering his collarbones and his ribs, laving over Steve's small, tight nipples with his tongue, and absorbing with his mouth the soft but heated sounds Steve made through his skin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was worried the last two installments weren't smutty enough. This one more than makes up for it.
> 
> 1\. ~~Naked cuddles~~  
>  2\. ~~Naked kissing~~  
>  3\. ~~Masturbation~~  
>  4\. Blowjob  
> 5\. Clothed getting off  
> 6\. First time  
> 7\. Half dressed  
> 8\. Skype/Facetime sex  
> 9\. Against the wall  
> 10\. Doggy style  
> 11\. Caught/walked in on  
> 12\. Fingering  
> 13\. Rimming  
> 14\. 69  
> 15\. Sweet and passionate  
> 16\. Public sex  
> 17\. On the floor  
> 18\. Lazy morning sex  
> 19\. Outdoors (woods, park, garden)  
> 20\. Your own kink  
> 21\. Shower sex  
> 22\. On the desk  
> 23\. Trying a new position  
> 24\. Loud sex  
> 25\. With Toys  
> 26\. Can't make a sound  
> 27\. Rough (biting, scratching, etc.)  
> 28\. Role playing  
> 29\. With food  
> 30\. Whatever pleases you

** Day 3: Masturbation **

Bucky let himself into the apartment as quietly as possible, glad he wasn't drunk so he didn't have to stumble in and make all kinds of noise fumbling around. If Steve was asleep, which was likely considering the late hour, Bucky didn't want to wake him. His asthma and sore back did that often enough. From the looks of it, he didn't disturb Steve; the bedroom door remained nearly shut, not a peep issuing from within.

Heaving a morose sigh, Bucky shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on the unoccupied hook by the door, next to Steve's. He slid his shoes off and left them neatly on the mat before shuffling over to the couch in his socks, slumping onto the ancient piece of furniture, stuffed as far into the corner of it as he could get. He and his date for the evening, Alice Pendergast, had torn up the floor with their flawless execution of the Lindy Hop and the Balboa, among others, and Alice was utterly gorgeous with her strawberry blonde curls pinned back, her sultry lips painted an inviting shade of red, and her fitted blue dress hugging her generous curves, flared skirt swirling around her shapely calves as she danced. She was any fella's dream, and she was one of the best dancers Bucky had ever taken out, but as they stepped out of the dance hall with Alice rubbing up on Bucky's arm, he came face to face with reality once again: he didn't want to sleep with her.

He could have forced himself, he supposed; he was a healthy nineteen year old, which basically meant he could get off on _anything_ , whether it be rubbing himself against the mattress or slipping it to a willing dame. He just didn't want to. He didn't want to disrespect Alice like that, even though she was clearly game, the way she batted her eyelashes at him and pressed herself against his arm as he walked her home. He didn't want to pretend he was interested even as long as it would take him to get her clothes off, fuck her, and then kiss her good night. Despite the look of dismay on her face when he dropped her off at her doorstep, politely declining her invitation to accompany her inside, he found it more agreeable to disappoint her and soothe his conscience, which was how he wound up back home at the apartment he shared with his best friend, Steve, with whom he happened to be head over heels, wildly, stupidly in love.

Steve, of course, didn't know this. No one did. Even Bucky had spent years denying it to himself. When Steve's mother passed the year before and Steve agreed to move into a place with Bucky, things had changed. All they could find in their price range was a one-bedroom cold water flat in one of Brooklyn's less savory neighborhoods, but they could hardly turn it down; it was both inexpensive and furnished. So what if they had to share a double bed? They had been friends almost their entire lives; it wasn't as if they had never slept next to each other before.

Sharing the bed, however, turned out to be a much bigger deal than Bucky thought it would be. He suddenly became hyper-aware of Steve in a way he had never been before; Steve's gangly, bony body tossing and turning next to him, both of them most often sleeping in their underwear, more often than not waking up with Bucky wrapped around Steve to share some of Bucky's body heat with his much smaller, perpetually chilly friend. Bucky found himself craving Steve's natural clean, boyish scent; his sharp angles; his soft golden hair brushing Bucky's skin; and the way he felt all loose and boneless in Bucky's arms. More alarming was the realization that Bucky didn't just crave these things – and everything else about Steve – while lying in bed; he craved them while they ate across the kitchen table from each other, while they read in companionable silence during the evening, while they washed dishes or took walks or anything else the two of them might do together. Worse, he craved them when Steve was nowhere near him – when Bucky was at work on the docks or out on a date with a pretty dame or taking a shower down the hall from their apartment.

The long and short of it was, Bucky had it bad, and he had it for someone he could never have.

Still buzzing from the elated high of an evening of spirited dancing, Bucky knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, and he would undoubtedly wake Steve if he crawled into bed with that much energy to spare. He briefly considered warming some milk but then remembered they had used the last of it at breakfast. Perhaps a hot shower would help him unwind, but the door had been closed when he passed the communal bathroom just a minute ago.

"Shit." Bucky cursed under his breath, his brow drawing down in frustration. _Maybe I can read,_ he mused, but he was too comfortable to get up and walk the few steps to their bookshelf, filled with a meager assortment of mostly science fiction novels. Instead, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift, hopeful they wouldn't go where he knew they would. He couldn't help picturing Steve with his silken blond hair, his cornflower blue eyes, his full, red lips, and his scrawny little body, which Steve hated with unmatched passion but Bucky secretly thought was about the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

Steve's lips... now they were worth imagining. Perfectly shaped, perpetually swollen, and inarguably beautiful, they drew Bucky's attention whenever Steve was anywhere nearby. The things Bucky could imagine him doing with those lips – but what he imagined most often was not filthy and degrading; he pictured pressing his lips against Steve's, feeling their softness, their texture, before tracing his tongue along the plump lower lip and enticing Steve to part them...

Glancing again toward the bedroom door to find it in the same position as before, Bucky reached behind himself to switch off the lamp, plunging the room into near darkness, lit only by the feeble light from the moon outside the bleary window. Feeling tremendously depraved, his heart thudding in his chest, Bucky unbuttoned his shirt and wriggled out of it, then pulled off his undershirt. He settled in before moving further, one leg bent and leaning against the back of the couch, the other foot on the floor. His eyes slipped closed as he popped the button on his slacks and slid the zipper down, wasting no time building anticipation, but instead reaching inside to shove down the waistband of his underwear and free his stiff prick and engorged balls.

His breath quickening, Bucky slid a tight fist along his pulsing shaft, pausing to rub the smooth head with gentle but purposeful fingertips before spitting into his palm and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. Sparks erupted along his spine, and he tried to recall the last time he had touched himself this way. It had been at least a week; sleeping in the same bed as Steve afforded him no privacy, and he couldn't spend enough time in the shared bathroom to bring himself off. His only opportunity was the rare occasion when Steve was out of the apartment without him.

A soft grunt spilled from Bucky's lips, and he pressed them together, willing himself to remain silent, although his nature was to do the opposite. His mind turned from his guilt and fear of being caught back to Steve, imagining taking his much smaller, utterly beloved friend into his arms and kissing him for as long as Steve would let him. He imaged slow, meaningful kisses melting into deep, passionate ones, his hands straying from where they had nested in Steve's hair to caress his face and neck, then moving to undress him, slow and worshipful, unwrapping Steve like the perfect, delicate gift he truly was.

With a low groan, his hand moving faster along his length, Bucky pictured himself kissing his way down Steve's slender neck, tasting the fragile skin covering his collarbones and his ribs, laving over Steve's small, tight nipples with his tongue, and absorbing with his mouth the soft but heated sounds Steve made through his skin. He pictured kissing his way down Steve's stomach, sliding his hands down Steve's back to cup his ass, and looking up at Steve's face as he took Steve's cock into his mouth with a muffled moan of reverent pleasure.

"Buck?"

Choking on a breath, Bucky shot upright at the sound of Steve's voice, his eyes flying open to find Steve's dark form standing next to him, shrouded in moonlight. Fumbling for his shirt, Bucky yanked it over his lap, his face scalding, nausea beginning to creep up on him, and he tried to babble out an apology, an explanation, _anything,_ but Steve beat him to the punch.

"No... don't stop."

Bucky swallowed hard, certain he was having a heart attack, and managed to gasp out, "Huh?"

Taking a seat at the other end of the couch, Steve regarded him across the small, moonlit space, his eyes gleaming. "I heard ya," he murmured, those full, sensuous lips quirking into a smile, "and I came out here to join you. If that's okay."

English was Bucky's first and only language, but it escaped him completely. Rather than blathering out some gibberish, he nodded dumbly, unable to stop staring, open-mouthed, as Steve positioned himself exactly the way Bucky was. Steve wore flannel pajama bottoms and one of Bucky's old A-shirts, but Bucky thought he had never looked more beautiful, especially when he slid his pants down as far as mid-thigh and wrapped his long, slim fingers around his own cock, which, to Bucky's shock, was as stiff as his own.

"C'mon. Don't let me interrupt." Steve stretched one leg across the short expanse of couch between them and tapped Bucky's foot with his own. "It sounded like you were feelin' pretty good before. Were ya?"

"God, yes," Bucky whispered, his voice still out of reach, but Steve's smile widened nonetheless.

Steve's hand moved, stroking the full length of his cock, and he took a shaky breath before responding. "What were ya thinkin' about?"

The problem with being a man, Bucky had long figured, was that he only had enough blood to fully power his brain or his dick – never both at once. He illustrated the same by groaning without thinking, _"You."_

It was out there, and he couldn't take it back. Fortunately for Bucky, Steve didn't recoil in horror or storm off; he only sank deeper into the couch, his fist moving faster, licking his lips as his eyes burned a hole in Bucky. "Oh, yeah?" Steve breathed with a slow blink. "I was hopin' so."

A whimper escaped Bucky, but whether it was caused by the physical sensation of his hand stroking his aching cock or the realization that this was real, that a fantasy come true was unfolding in front of him, he had no idea. "Stevie..."

"Yeah, Buck, lemme hear you." Steve's head fell back against the armrest as he squirmed in pleasure, panting.

Their strokes grew fast and sloppy very quickly, and Bucky, lost in the throes of it, could only watch, glassy-eyed, as Steve shot up to his knees at Bucky's feet, his fist flying over his cock in a blur. "Bucky," Steve moaned, his body curling inward, "I'm gonna come."

"Oh, fuck yeah." Bucky's voice came out higher than normal, more air than sound, but he couldn't care less, as enthralled as he was with the sight in front of him. He scrambled onto his knees in front of Steve, his right hand still furiously working his own dick, his left braced on the cushion beneath him. "Shoot on me, baby."

The instant it was out of his mouth, he cringed internally, utterly certain that would be the straw that broke the camel's back, that Steve's face would twist in disgust, but nothing of the sort happened.

"Bucky," Steve cried out instead, his body stiffening and his hand stilling, and Bucky leaned forward, eager and breathless, as Steve shot off, thick warmth streaking Bucky's hair, his cheek, and then – _oh, God!_ – his tongue.

Bucky licked his lips and swallowed, savoring the taste of Steve for only a second before his mouth fell open, his eyes widening as his own orgasm hit him. Exhaling Steve's name on a breathy moan, he came harder than he remembered ever coming before in his life, and just as he finished, sagging against the back of the couch, he felt tentative fingers threading through his hair.

Lifting his head, Bucky found Steve looking down at him with a nervous smile on his beloved face. "Hey," Bucky said, grinning widely and rising to his knees in front of Steve. Meeting Steve's eyes, Bucky ran his finger along his own cheekbone, collecting the warm ejaculate striped across his face and sucking it off his finger, making Steve laugh in surprise. "Mmm. Fuck." Bucky dropped his head, looking up at Steve through his eyelashes.

Still smiling, Steve gave Bucky a look so warm and penetrating, he might've reached inside Bucky's chest and caressed his very heart. "So," Steve asked, "how long?"

Bucky sank down to sit on his heels, and Steve followed suit, never breaking eye contact. Their knees nearly touched, but Steve shuffled forward the last inch until they _did_ touch and reached out to clasp Bucky's hand. "Promise you won't get weird?" Bucky asked, his heart pounding.

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're weird enough for both of us, ain't ya? Of course I won't."

"Since we moved in together, I guess," Bucky said, his voice low and hesitant. "At least, that's when I really started noticing it. But I… if I'm being honest, I think I started feeling… like this about you long before that."

Nodding, Steve stared at Bucky for a long moment – just long enough for Bucky to break.

"I mean, I don't just feel like this," he said, gesturing vaguely between their near-naked bodies. "It's more than just, 'hey, let's jerk off together, have a nice day.'"

Steve snorted laughter. "I was kinda hopin' so. How do you feel, then?"

It was all out in the open anyway; Bucky couldn't imagine how much worse a full confession could possibly make things. "I feel like I'm in love with you, Stevie. I _know_ I am."

For several long, breathless, agonizing seconds, Bucky watched Steve watch him. He was about to either scream and tear his hair out or flat-out ask Steve what he was thinking, but before he had to, Steve spoke again. "That's good," he mused, the corner of his mouth turned upward in a smart-ass smirk. "Now it won't be so awkward when I tell you I'm in love with you, too. Have been since forever, I s'pose."

Bucky swallowed around what felt like a grapefruit in his throat. "You have?"

"Yeah, sure," Steve said with a shrug, as if it was a foregone conclusion. "Only I never told you 'cause I didn't think you'd ever feel that way. You're kind of a ladies' man, in case you haven't noticed."

Bucky sighed, nodding. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Now seems like the time, don't it?"

Laughing, Bucky nodded. "Guess so. I been goin' out with all those girls to take my mind off how much I want you. I never thought you'd feel that way, either. I gotta be honest… I haven't slipped it to a dame in – I don't even know how long." His face warming, he hung his head, peeking up at Steve with an embarrassed grin. "I let 'em take me home sometimes and kiss on me a bit just so's I come home with lipstick smears and smellin' like their perfume."

"You jerk." Steve threw himself into Bucky's lap, both of them chuckling as Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's waist. "Well, I'll tell you what. I'm awful glad you don't know how to keep your fool mouth shut."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

Steve slid a possessive hand around the back of Bucky's neck with a smile that somehow managed to be shy only minutes after he shot his load across Bucky's face. "'Cause if I hadn't heard you making all those sounds out here, this never woulda happened."

"Oh, I don't know." Bucky pressed his forehead against Steve's, sure there were stars in his eyes to match the dazzled smile on his lips. "Somethin's tellin' me it had to happen sometime."

**

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make each of you my BFF, individually, somehow!


End file.
